


A Death Star Minute (Director Krennic x Reader)

by SecretShameWriting



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Blow Job, F/M, M/M, Other, Semi-Public Sex, gender neutral reader, mention of Dom/Sub relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-16
Updated: 2018-05-16
Packaged: 2019-05-07 18:28:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14676870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SecretShameWriting/pseuds/SecretShameWriting
Summary: Silent as a shadow, you moved with his footsteps. The fall of boots seeming only as one in the long corridor that was known to throw the sound back. It was common to catch a pair of Stormtroopers guarding a door chatting, they couldn't help it- they were barely more than normal citizens with combat training. Not a Deathtrooper. Elite units, specialized, excelling at command, and stealth missions. They were also assigned bodyguards to Imperial Officers too valuable to risk, and Director Krennic was your charge. Lieutenant of Death Squad, stationed on the DS-1 Platform and part of the Tarkin Initiative.





	A Death Star Minute (Director Krennic x Reader)

Silent as a shadow, you moved with his footsteps. The fall of boots seeming only as one in the long corridor that was known to throw the sound back. It was common to catch a pair of Stormtroopers guarding a door chatting, they couldn't help it- they were barely more than normal citizens with combat training. Not a Deathtrooper. Elite units, specialized, excelling at command, and stealth missions. They were also assigned bodyguards to Imperial Officers too valuable to risk, and Director Krennic was your charge. Lieutenant of Death Squad, stationed on the DS-1 Platform and part of the Tarkin Initiative. 

Death troopers operated in fewer numbers, a unit normally consisted of three troopers. Each completed rigorous training and was formidable in any aspect, but each focused on a set of skills to best complement the unit. Grand Admiral Thrawn and Director Krennic commanded larger groups for their needs. Death Squad handled many tasks but it seemed mostly to fall to babysitting Stormtroopers about their occasionally important missions aboard the platform- usually to ensure the delivery of special cargo, personnel, and prisoners. The Squad rotated positions to avoid monotony, but being unmatched at unarmed combat and overly sufficient at any weapon you picked up more often than not put you, best suited, as the Director’s personal bodyguard. 

If it was off of the base, Krennic was always shadowed by two troopers. The numbers went up from there depending on the level of intimidation he wished to show. But day to day you walked in his tracks, singly responsible. It is always a stark contrast: his white, your black; as though the transoptical lights left an unchanging, towering shadow behind him, embodied as a person to enforce his will. 

Clean cut, well-groomed, ruthless. You admired the Director. As a part of the psychological evaluation to become a Deathtrooper, it was required to meet a set of ideals, mentality, and morality; above all a sense of devotion to the Empire. On top of this however you felt a certain level of pride doing what you do. And being where you are. You had been offered a command position of your own, with your own squad underneath you by your own commander, and by other Imperial Officers of note. Since none had been a direct order, you had declined them all. 

Perhaps the Director favored you as well. Though requests could be made to borrow your skills and those of the squad in other missions.. any attempt at requisition was bluntly rebuffed. 

It may have been a penchant for the wildly kinky sex you two had been having for more rotations than you could count. Though it happened less than either of you would have liked. Both being strict professionals and Imperialists would never let it interfere with your duties. 

As the work neared completion, life became more hectic. Krennic handled it with ease but you knew he was stretched thin and chomping at the bit, too eager to prove the culmination of his devotion to this project since his time on the Republic’s Special Weapons Group. He fought tooth and nail for two decades to keep this project going, and he wasn't about to get lax now. 

He was being far too high strung for your liking. The last three times you fooled around, only one had been a celebration of a small victory. It had been an exuberant exploring, wandering hands, and mild teasing. Quite different from the norm, but even more so than the two times before. Luckily you had a taste for violence from all of your time at the academy, masochism had been beat into you, and when a kyber shipment had been delayed combined with a slave revolt pushed deadlines back across the board Krennic had been… indignant.

Turning down a corridor, an opportunity arose. You knew this battle station as well as him, if not better. He may have been the architect but you had walked every pace of the halls. The nearest regiment of Troopers was minutes away down either corridor and out of earshot. It was well away from the main passages, just a lonely tunnel used to go between Deep Storage and the South Command and even then it's use was scarce. 

Your pace quickened and before he could even turn around out of surprise you had the Director pushed against the Quadanium paneling. 

“Trooper!” in his shock he spat it like a bad taste. “Identify yourself!”

You forewent an immediate answer, instead “Director Krennic” tsked through the heavy distortion of your helmet. The toe of your boot moving against the instep of his to push his stance wider apart while you had your immaculate DLT-19D blaster pinning him. 

Patience was gone and leaving only the cool, levelhead of command in place the Director gave you a final chance. “I ordered you to identify yourself trooper.” His hand was ready to draw on the blaster pistol at his side. 

Stepping even closer in his stance you left him nowhere to go as you imposed over him. You lowered your rifle with your right hand and nimbly disarmed his holster with your left. “Has it been that long?” the voice couldn't be any further from your own, by design. Both guns gently clattering to the floor you disengaged your helmet and quickly pulled it up over your head. “Or have you become more familiar with the rest of the Squadron?”

Any recognition was showed in annoyance, a quarter of an eye roll and a miniscule clench of his jaw. “Familiar?” he seethed. Shrugging his shoulders then tugging to adjust his cape he asked “What if you had been a Rebel? Sometimes it can be hard to tell who is behind that damn visage.” 

“I would never let that happen, Sir.” you cooed. You loved your armor but in these moments the layers of reflec and plastoid was a prison, holding you back from what you really wanted.   
“I have a request, Director.” Desire burned in your eyes, seeped from your bones.

Krennic rolled his eyes in a full circle this time, displeased. “Not this. Not now.” An attempt was made to push past you, there was a meeting to attend in Southern Command. It could wait. If Krennic wasn’t there, the officers would wait all day, out of fear, if they had to. 

The reinforced gloves of your armor gripped lightly onto the pristine white fabric as you sank to your knees. On several occasions you had offered him relief from his stress by taking command, an inverse to the status quo of your daily power dynamic- it was something he had enjoyed greatly. All things being the same, there was several safe words he could have used, but did not utter a one, or any further protest than a dry “Oh, please.” as you made quick work the Director’s trousers. 

His cock seemed as unamused at your antics as he was. Moving closer, not yet touching him, but just exhaling a warm breath across his skin breathed life into him. The twitch was an invitation as you began teasing with your tongue, around the tip, lapping at his length and finding more with each pass. Your own arousal peaked as well, tingling between your legs and involuntary clenching.. It was tempting to throw him to the ground and mount him right there in the hallway if it was as easy as that. Again the armor proved to be a bastille of lust. However, you figured this would entice him enough to lead to further exchange later, in his quarters. Heightening the craving for both of you. 

Taunting and tantalizing him long enough you gave Krennic some relief as you took him into your mouth, and further into your throat until your lips were buried against his base. You quickly suppressed a gag before moving back out and in once again. Knowing what he liked, you could make quick work of it but decided to draw it out only slightly longer than it needed to be. 

Curse his strong resolve. The only recognition you got over your unsavory, sloppy, wanton noises were a throaty exhale and the stress of synthleather glove over a clenching hand. Tracing patterns with your tongue, using that in tandem with your lips and just the right pressure- though he gave you no warning, you had a good guestimate and it was no surprise when he finished in your mouth. You welcomed the alkali taste, twinged with salt, in this moment it tasted like sweet victory. 

Glancing up you saw he had given in to slouch back against the wall, eyes shut tight. You pulled a grin while you slurped every last bit, and swallowing it down. An arm shook furtively before pounding on the solid panel Krennic leaned against before he straightened himself. Knowing full well he would not tolerate anymore of this foolishness now you still tried your luck as you turned your face, rubbing the mixture of fluids on your lips as though it was a balm.

“You stall important Imperial business, for carnal desires. And now you think you are being cute?” Krennic shoved you away staunchly, but you easily braced yourself on an arm from your crouched position. You chuckled. Usually a surprise blowjob would put a man in a upbeat mood, but this had the opposite effect on an already short temper, so you felt for any officer or engineer that tried the Director’s patience the rest of the day. 

“No one will be able to smell your cum on my breath under my helmet.” Hoisting your rifle, with headgear soundly tucked beneath your arm as you righted yourself, you smugly announced “But it might be hard to hide that spit on your pants from the peering eyes of Imperial Officers.” 

It had been something he wouldn’t have noticed through his gloves but with your comment he looked down to find a fairly distinctive pattern soaked into the crotch of his white pants. 

Disdain spread across his face and filled his voice to brimming. “Whore”, he cursed. 

You had been called worse, and strived for even better so the remark was regarded with a laughter that came out as pure static through the vocalizer as you resecured your armor. 

The Director made an abrupt about-face and took off haughtily through the corridor back towards the turbolift. It was your job to follow every step, and it was back to duty as usual.

**Author's Note:**

> My first time writing smut after a long hiatus of not being creative at all. If there is interest I might write more of the juicer bits.


End file.
